A parting gift

The following may seem a bit meandering and lacking in purpose, but bear with me to the end, as it really is relevant.When I was a young child, I lived in Alaska for four years from kindergarten through third grade. My father was relocated periodically courtesy of the US Air Force, and he actually requested an assignment at a base just outside of Anchorage. It seems he had fond memories of the area from an assignment that predated my parents' marriage, and was eager to take us all up there with him. I can only imagine what my reaction might have been when I heard where we were going, but I'm sure I had few realistic ideas about what lay ahead.While I don't have any sort of contiguous narrative memory of the period, I do remember quite a few vignettes and images from those four years. Spring and Summer were always full of riotous color as wildflowers charged forth from their slumber to fill the long sunny days of the growing season with their glory. There were blueberry picking expeditions, canoing excursions, driving trips along roads blasted out of solid rock to see this glacier or that cultural site, camping trips and yes, even an occasional moose sighting. Between the intense natural surroundings and the wonder-tinted lenses of my youth, it was a time of wide-eyed amazement.Fall and Winter, of course, stood opposed in countless ways. Color leeched away as annuals lost first their blooms and then their lives, deciduous trees shed their leaves and even the very ground was bleached white by snowfall. Save for the painted homes and cars and the occasional hint of green pine needles under icy blankets, the world was reduced - if not to pure monochrome, at the very least to a sepia-toned version of its short-lived former self. The Sun itself grew distant and cold, and in the very depths of the season made only grudging and half-hearted appearances above the horizon. Every now and then we would wake with amazing ice sheet formations on the outer panes of our windows, and the rising sun would turn them into crystalline gold for the few short minutes they managed to resist its heat (such as it was). Winter was a time for snow angels and ice skating, hot chocolate and snowsuits and, of course, hitting the books for school.Such contrasts notwithstanding, one quality that both seasons shared was incredible beauty. To be sure, there was very little in common between Summer's rich and vibrant colors and Winter's pale, dark stillness. Even so, buttressed by the indomitable inner thermostat of a child, I found Winter just as awe-inspiring and replete with treats for the senses as any other time of year. Even now, the world seems so pure and innocent when blanketed with fresh snow that concerns about the affairs of the day tend to melt away, leaving little more than a profound sense of awe.I have been in Massachusetts since December 28th, and last night it finally snowed. Oh, it may have tried once or twice earlier, but that was of the "melting within inches of the ground" variety. It started snowing for real not long after sundown last night, and snow was still falling gently this morning, with a blanket at least an inch deep - possibly as many as three - on every horizontal surface. Being up to a moderate degree of physical activity at this point, I threw on my coat, scarf and gloves (having fallen asleep fully dressed last night) and headed out the door. I was too concerned about well-intentioned neighbors to journey off of my hosts' property, but I did tromp about in the snow for a bit, taking in the sights of Winter. I even snapped a few photos, in true tourist style. Unfortunately, as I know from a previous operation, injuries within the nostrils take an awfully long time to heal and remain quite sensitive during that time. The rest of me was happy to stay outside for hours, but my poor nose simply couldn't take the cold for long, so I came back inside and sat down to write this post as I gazed upon the snowy, forested rear portion of the lot through sliding glass doors.Had the snow fallen earlier, it would either have complicated my travel or been inaccessible due to my physical state. Had it been heavier or more persistent, it might have interfered with my flight tomorrow. As it is, I got to enjoy Winter's beauty for a day before heading home. It would be difficult to view this as anything other than a gift from Nature (egocentric as that may sound), and I am very, very grateful.